


Three Sheets to the Wind (and a few screws loose)

by LunaDeSangre



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diverging Point, M/M, S3E06: Madmen and Fools
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:06:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaDeSangre/pseuds/LunaDeSangre
Summary: Kelly turns hisSquad onlyVegas weekend into aLieutenants onlyone at the last minute—and everything goes, of course, completely wrong.Matt, however, has learnt a long time ago to do his best with whatever life gives him. And he's not about to let go of Kelly. Foranything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because someone had to write this.
> 
> (But please note that the only things you can expect from me are short chapters and sporadic updates.)
> 
> Also: Please heed the fact that I _chose not to use archive warnings_ , even if you won't see why for a while.

_Plane leaves at 10:30. Last chance, Matt_ , is the text buzzing on Matt's phone as he gets back in his truck with Gabby after seeing his niece and his sister.

Matt _stares_. Kelly hasn't texted him in forever, because they never really got back to the way they were before Andy, Heather, and now Shay. Kelly's words about having no-one to count on still _burn_ , all of Matt' attempts to reach him not enough, even the one with the cigars he had been sure would nudge _something_ —

Except maybe it _has_ nudged something, if he's getting an invite to the _Squad only_ Vegas weekend. Even if said invite is because all of Kelly's Squad buddies bailed out on him.

"What," Gabby snorts next to him, reading the text over his shoulder, "he can't actually expect us to go with him just like that, can he? I thought it was _Squad only._ "

Matt looks at her.

"Matt," she says warningly, reading his expression.

"He needs someone," he answers, starting his truck, checking his side mirror and driving off. It's 9:07, the airport isn't that far away, he can make it. He'll have nothing to wear but the dirty clothes in his gym bag, but he can make it.

"Yeah," she protests a bit disbelievingly, "but Matt, we can't take off just like that, it's mad."

"You take the truck home after we get to the airport, get some rest," he tells her, concentrating on driving _right_ at the speed limit and taking shortcuts, "I'll get a ride back with Kelly when we get back and I'll see you then."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees her mouth dropping open, face settling in an expression that is _not_ the supportive one he'd hoped for, and frantically rewind things in his head even as he drives.

Oh. _Shit_.

"I mean, you wouldn't want to go to Vegas with nothing to wear, would you, babe?" he tries to joke, "You'd want a few of those sexy dresses, and a nice pair of heels, right, not a bag full of dirty work clothes."

"Right," she answers—flatly.

"You and I can do this properly some other time," he tells her sincerely, diverting his attention from the road for a second to throw a smile her way.

"Yeah?" she mellows, "with you wearing a tux and everything?"

"Sure," he grins, relieved.

"I'll hold you up to that," she threatens jokingly, startling a laugh out of him. "But you know, you're gonna have to do laundry somehow or find a shop or something, 'cause you _really_ have nothing but a bag full of dirty work clothes."

"I doubt Kelly's gonna care I'm not wearing a sexy dress," he deadpans, making her laugh, "and I'm sure they got laundromats in Vegas too. Besides, it's just gonna be a guy's weekend, you know, get his mind off everything. He needs me, I can't let him down again."

"I know, babe," she answers softly, "I know."


	2. Chapter 2

Kelly's sitting near the plane's gate, elbows on his knees and looking blankly at his phone when Matt finds him, having rushed as much as he could to buy his ticket and pass through all the security checks.

He doesn't see Matt until Matt's right in front of him, dropping to a crouch to try and catch Kelly's eyes because Kelly's completely failed to respond to his "Hey, sorry I'm late, got here as fast as I could," and his vastly more worried "Hey man, you're okay?" when Matt was just standing there looking down at Kelly's unresponsive bowed head.

"Kelly," he says again, with a gnawing bottomless pit in his stomach, because the guy's just _radiating_ sadness, and Matt still hasn't figured out how to reach him in this Andy-less world, much less in a world that's now missing _Shay_ as well. He gently places a hand on Kelly's holding his phone, and Kelly jerks, finally looking at him.

"Hey," Matt whispers, faced with a sudden wide grin that's so full of hope it's both blinding and heartbreaking.

"Hey," Kelly answers, nearly in the same tone, "didn't think you'd make it. Sorry it was last minute."

Which Matt knows means _Didn't think you'd come_ , and _Sorry you were last resort_ , but he's far too glad Kelly's _asked_ to be anywhere near offended. He'd have worried the whole weekend, if Kelly had gone alone, in the state of mind Kelly's stuck in these days, and he was way too scared of making everything worse to ask Kelly himself if he could come along.

"Hey, spontaneous Lieutenants' Vegas weekend?" he jokes purposely, despite knowing that's not what it was supposed to be, "wouldn't miss it!"

Kelly's smile gets _brighter_ , somehow, at that.

Matt just grins back, happy he's getting through a little. "'Course," he continues, "you're gonna have to help me find a laundromat, 'cause I had no time to pack—all I have is the dirty laundry in my gym bag." He shakes it for emphasis.

"Shit, sorry," Kelly says, but he laughs a little as well, so Matt still counts it as a win.

"D'you think they have, like, slots on their laundromat machines, in Vegas?" he asks, widening his eyes for entertainment purposes.

"I have _no idea_ ," Kelly answers slowly, voice full of laughter and grin impossibly wide and bright, stunningly-blue eyes shining.

"Maybe you can win the coins of all the previous guys who washed their dirty undies in them," Matt hypothesizes, pretending to ponder it seriously.

Kelly cracks up. Matt feels himself grin like an absolute idiot in automatic answer. He's missed this far more than he'd ever be able to express.

"Just as long as you don't end up winning the dirty _undies_ of those guys," Kelly jokes back, snickering.

"Ewww," Matt shoots back, making his worst disgusted face, "I might have to find a shop instead."

"What," Kelly teases, "you don't wanna wear some random guy's undies?"

" _No_ ," Matt answers emphatically, eyes widening again to stress how utterly _disturbing_ that idea is.

"I bet it'd be a balding middle-aged guy with a pot-belly too. And a beard," Kelly continues with a grin reaching mad proportions, obviously on a roll now.

" _Urgh_ ," Matt groans, with an exaggerated shudder.

"Named— _Edgar_. Or Napoleon Leopold the third. And the undies'd be red and lacy, of course," Kelly insists mercilessly.

" _Stop_ ," Matt begs, waving his hands pleadingly, laughing so hard he has to sit on the floor, right there at Kelly's feet, and can't even bring himself to mind one bit that people are probably staring.

Kelly does stop, though that probably has more to do with him snickering way too much to be able to keep talking than any sort of clemency. Matt doesn't care, so glad and so relieved that he's somehow managed to wipe that unbearable sadness from Kelly's face—for now at least. 


	3. Chapter 3

The seatbelt sign chimes off; Matt unclicks his, turns his upper body in his seat and cranes his neck to see Kelly over the other passengers' heads. They didn't book or check in at the same time, so of course they don't have seats near each other. And Kelly was still smiling when he helped Matt off the floor at the boarding call, but Matt's concerned he might have started brooding again the minute he was alone in that sea of strangers.

Unless he's sitting next to a pretty girl, Matt supposes. He wouldn't be surprised, with Kelly's tendency to attract them like flies—but nah, that looks like the top of a nice granny's head, with that grey bun. Oh well, Kelly's good with grannies too, Matt thinks in amusement, watching him smile and nod in his window seat.

He looks up in Matt's direction after a couple of seconds, like he's felt Matt's stare, so Matt gives him a little wave, and Kelly answers with a two-fingers salute and one of his bright grins.

"Hey kid," the middle-aged man next to him warns, "you need to sit in your seat _right_ , if you don't want to fly off and break your neck when there's a turbulence."

For a second or two, Matt thinks the guy's talking to the _actual_ kid on Matt's other side, but a quick glance confirms _she's_ staring at him too, and the smile Kelly's grin has caused on his face freezes a little.

"Uh," he answers, taken aback, and doubly so by the condescending tone, "I'm not a kid. And I'm just checking on my friend. But thanks for your concern."

He's not even being sarcastic, but the man scowls with a "Whatever. Just don't blame me if you crack open your skull, kid." And he promptly puts his headphones back on and leans back in his seat with his eyes closed.

Matt grits his teeth and swallows back all his arguments about warning turbulence signs, competent pilots, flight risks statistics, and the fact that it's not like Matt's kneeling backwards in his seat, he's just turned his upper body a little and he's a goddamn _CFD Lieutenant_ for fuck's sake, not a _kid_ —because it's not worth it to pick a fight with a condescending moron in a crowded flight.

He supposes the kid thing might be a matter of perspective anyway, with the man in question being what, fifty, fifty-five—on top of being an ass. The girl on Matt's right side probably doesn't think she's a kid either, but she doesn't look over twenty and that makes her a kid to _Matt_ , from the, okay, not-that-high bird-eye view of his thirty-four years of age.

The girl in question is still staring at him and he wishes she'd stop, so back to _sitting right_ in his seat and with the old man silent, he raises his eyebrows at her, widening his eyes with a tilt of his head in clear _What the hell's wrong with that guy, uh?_

She giggles, and immediately asks, _of course_ smacking a gum in her mouth: "So, are you single?" Leaning forward and everything, which is absolutely _not_ what Matt was going for.

He resists the urge to groan in annoyed despair, but only barely. " _No_ ," he answers, succinct and to the point, turning his gaze to the back of the seat in front of him, now wishing _he_ had headphones.

"Oh," she says, sounding thoroughly disappointed, "Was that your boyfriend you were waving to, then? Why aren't you guys sitting together?"

Right, that's it, maybe Kelly has headphones he can borrow. "Excuse me," Matt tells her, getting up, "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Sure," she answers, annoyingly smacking her gum again with her eyes actually lighting up, "so, ass or crotch?" she asks, gathering her legs to sit cross-legged on her seat, presumably to make room for him to pass, and waiting expectantly.

What the fucking _hell_ , Matt thinks, absolutely horrified.

" _Fight Club_ ," she elaborates at the face he has to be making, "You know? What you're gonna put in my face to get to the aisle?"

Matt's fairly sure he'd rather climb over the grumpy old man's lap than put _anything_ in her face.

"Personally, I think crotch is more appropriate for a man," she continues with this scarily anticipatory grin.

 _Ass it is_ , Matt thinks, scuttling by as fast as he can, hoping she doesn't _grab him_ or something.


	4. Chapter 4

In five seconds and some long steps he's standing at Kelly's row, apologizing to the nice granny for interrupting her mid-flow.

"Hey," Kelly greets with a smile. "Lottie, this is my friend Matt I was telling you about. Matt, this is Lottie, she was visiting her grandchildren in Chicago and was telling me how much nicer Colorado is."

"Our winters aren't quite so brutal," _Lottie_ agrees, smiling warmly at Matt, "and the landscape is still as breathtaking as it was fifty years ago."

"Do you live outside the city then?" Matt asks, taking a guess, happy to make small talk and stay away from his seat, not to mention see Kelly grin in light-hearted amusement.

He's treated to a whole monologue on the beauty of the wilderness, what other things there is to see in Colorado _besides_ Las Vegas' casinos, most of which apparently necessitate a lot of trekking, and a detailed, even more enthusiastic description of the cob house Lottie and her late husband built with their own four hands back in the seventies. Because _of course_ Matt would end up sitting in-between Napoleon Leopold and Little Miss Pervert while _Kelly_ gets the cool hippy grandma.

"Oh," said cool hippy grandma abruptly utters after a while, "but I doubt you came over to hear an old woman talk your ears off. Did you have something to ask your friend, dearie? Or perhaps you'd like to sit here? I certainly don't mind swapping seats, if you boys want to sit together."

"Oh no," Matt answers, despite wanting that very, _very_ much, "that's okay, I don't want to be a bother, but thank you for offering, ma'am, it's really nice of you. I just came to borrow Kelly's headphones. You've got headphones, right?" he asks Kelly, trying not to beg too obviously.

"Uh, yeah," Kelly says, digging for them in his pockets and handing them over with a little worried frown.

"Are you sure, sweetie?" Lottie doubtfully asks, "You looked a bit pale when you came over."

"Yes ma'am, I'll be fine, thank you," Matt assures with a smile, waving his sanity-saving prize. "Please excuse me."

And he really does go to the bathroom, waving as many people ahead of him as he can, just to avoid going back to his seat for as long as possible.

When he walks back, Kelly is stashing Matt's bag and coat in the overhead compartment above his own row, and he can see the top of Lottie's bun in his seat.

"Hey," Kelly grins, noticing his wide-eyed stare, "she was adamant I sit with my _so polite, so well-mannered_ friend and had me fetch your things and carry hers over. Guess you're stuck with me now."

Matt flounders for two seconds, then decides "I should go say thank you."

"Oh please," the nice granny says when he does, "it's my pleasure. Your friend was worried about you, you know, kept looking after you, even before you came over. It's better this way; I'm perfectly fine here, and now you boys can have fun together."

Matt thanks her again, trying to ignore the way Napoleon Leopold glares at him, presumably for all this commotion, and Little Miss Pervert _leers_. Cool Hippy Grandma Lottie looks at them both and snorts in amusement, then waves him away with a smile. Matt has a feeling she can handle herself better that he has—though it's very unlikely Little Miss Pervert is going to ask _her_ which part of her anatomy Lottie wants to angle toward the girl to pass by.


	5. Chapter 5

Kelly's grinning in amusement when Matt gratefully sinks down next to him. Matt's relief is probably so obvious it seems downright laughable even to him, so really, he wouldn't even begrudge Kelly for _cackling_ at his expense right now. He'd take fiery infernos over awkward sitting arrangements any day, thank you. Thank god for overprotective meddling friends and cool hippy grannies.

"You sure you don't want the window seat?" Kelly asks, "I don't mind switching."

"Nah," Matt answers with a smile, "I'm fine with the aisle, thanks." Because he doesn't want to bother Kelly more. It's got nothing to do with the fact that if he's near the aisle, he doesn't have to wonder whether it'd be less embarrassing to put his crotch or his ass in Kelly's face if he has to get up again. At all. Fucking _kid_.

Fucking _still leering_ kid.

"That kid's kinda creepy," Kelly comments quietly as Matt sags in his seat and slouches toward him slightly so he's out of said creepy kid's view. Kelly lowers his voice even more and leans even closer to conspiratorially whisper in Matt's ear: "She asked if I was single and got this _look_ on her face when I had to bend over her to grab your bag below your seat—kinda like something out of a cannibalistic horror movie."

Matt snorts a little in sudden laughter. "What, like she wanted to roast you over a campfire with peas and garlic?" he whispers back, turning his head to see Kelly's face.

They're barely an inch or two apart. If the creepy cannibalistic kid in question could see them, she _really_ would assume Kelly is his lover. Especially with the guy's grin widening like that, eyes twinkling and all.

Which is…a little bit too intense, from this close. No wonder Kelly gets laid so often, Matt thinks, abruptly and a little bit dazedly. He pulls back a little, because besides the fact that the proximity is a bit too much somehow, it wouldn't do for either or both of them to loose any teeth if there's a turbulence or something, as close as their mouths are right now.

He sinks back in his seat with his smile still on his face, hoping he doesn't look as rattled as he feels. It's _The Kelly Severide Effect_ , really. Nobody's immune. _Nobody_.

"So," Kelly prods after a few seconds, actually poking Matt's side, laughter still in his voice.

"So?" Matt asks warily, curling up a little defensively in automatic response, feeling his brows furrow a bit as he looks back. He's ticklish, and he _knows_ Kelly must remember that too.

Kelly's grin is bright, wide, and completely unrepentant about his implied threat. "You're gonna tell me what happened over there—" cue nod in the direction of Matt's previous seat "—that had you so spooked you scurried over here like a little mouse?"

Matt feels his mouth drop open in surprised outrage. "I did not _scurry like a mouse!_ " he hisses fiercely.

"And then you went and hid in the bathroom," Kelly continues ruthlessly, eyes crinkled in laughter.

"I was not—!" Okay, he can sort of see how it would look like that. "I was being a gentleman and—" he flounders a bit "—letting people with…more urgent needs use the facilities ahead of me."

Kelly, of course, cracks up, though he obviously does try to do so quietly, even if that mostly fails. Thankfully nobody around seems to be paying them any attention this time. Matt glares at him anyway, which has _of course_ absolutely no effect, what with Matt being too glad Kelly's enjoying himself, even if it's at his own expense.


	6. Chapter 6

"You know I will annoy you until you tell me, right?" Kelly gets out between snickers a minute or two later.

Matt breathes out a long, loud, martyr-worthy sigh. Kelly menacingly points his right index at his ribs, and Matt has another one of his little defensive twitchy reflexes. Kelly snorts in amusement, finger hovering an inch away from Matt's side.

Matt crosses his arms around his middle protectingly, palms flat. "What are you, _five_?" he growls quietly, inching away.

"Hey," Kelly grins, leaning closer to follow him even those bare few inches, "it's a completely legit interrogation technique."

"When you're _five_ ," Matt shoots back.

"Well, _you're_ the one susceptible to a five years old's interrogation technique," Kelly snickers.

Matt groans. The bastard is _not_ ticklish at all himself. Matt would know: in the decade and a half they've known each other, he's tried more than once—always in retaliation—and has only ended up subjected to varying levels of wide teasing smirks for his troubles, as Kelly always seemed to find a way to joke about foreplay instead, making Matt blush enough to let go of him in embarrassment. Andy had never failed to find it hysterically funny, not particularly ticklish himself either, and ganging up on Matt with Kelly more often than not.

Sure, he's missed Kelly's friendship, even the embarrassing teasing bits of it, but "We're in a _plane_ ," he hisses.

"If you think that's gonna stop me," Kelly whispers threateningly barely an inch from his ear, making Matt shudder a little involuntarily.

"Urgh," Matt grumbles, pushing him back in his own seat, " _Fine_. She just—asked whether I preferred to—and I'm quoting here—put my crotch or my ass in her face to get to the aisle," he answers in a fast whisper, very probably a bit red-faced under Kelly's delighted scrutiny.

Kelly gives a bark of surprised laughter, and then proceeds to snigger like a complete idiot for a good five minutes. Matt feels a mounting urge to throttle him that he resolutely ignores for the sake of grief-coping mechanisms and shaky friendships.

"So what _did_ you put in her face?" Kelly eventually manages to ask breathlessly.

He's not going to drop it, Matt knows, eyeing him sideways. "She said she wanted my— _front_ , so do the math," he mumbles in answer.

Cue another five minutes of badly smothered laughter. Matt lets his head falls back against his seat, biting his lips to keep from joining in, no matter how contagious Kelly's good mood is, because he's rather certain they'll probably just end up triggering each other to cackle like a pair of demented morons until landing if he starts.

"And now if _you'll_ excuse _me_ ," Kelly says when he can breathe again, still grinning wildly, "I actually need to go to the bathroom too. So what _do_ you prefer me to put in _your_ face?" he adds, snickering.

"Just go," Matt groans, turning in his seat to put his feet in the aisle and hiding his head in one hand, waving Kelly on with the other, unable to keep himself from laughing a little, " _now_ , before I decide to trap you in your seat until we _land_."

"I'd like to see you try," Kelly snickers, scooting by sideways—crotch toward Matt of course, Matt can't help but notice as he peeks a little.

He _also_ put his crotch in Matt's face when he comes back, with a completely unapologetic cocky grin at Matt's exaggeratedly disgusted grimace.

"You couldn't just tap me on the shoulder?" Matt accuses, having had no time to move besides quickly sliding his feet under his seat.

"And miss seeing that face?" Kelly _actually giggles_ , falling in his seat gracelessly when he bumps into Matt's knees and overbalances, narrowly missing Matt's lap.

 _Idiot_ , Matt thinks, vehement but fond, glaring at him all the same.


	7. Chapter 7

With no checked-in luggage, they escape the airport rather fast, after they've said goodbye to Lottie and made sure she didn't need anymore help with her bag and the suitcase she's waiting on.

"You boys are sweet, but there's such a thing as rolling carts, you know," she chides gently with an amused smile at their overbearing, and laughs when Matt immediately shoves his own bag in Kelly's arms to go get her one.

They both get a kiss on the cheek for their troubles, and an order to have as much fun as it's possible to have on their weekend getaway. Then she shoos them toward the exit, where Kelly waves at her with a smile and Matt tries to inconspicuously check that Little Miss Pervert is stuck waiting for a suitcase too.

She is, but she's also staring at them like she'd like nothing better than to stalk them both, so Matt gives a parting wave-and-smile to Lottie and starts pushing Kelly out with a hand on the guy's back.

He's not scared of a kid. He's just wary she might possibly be a budding serial-killer-slash-cannibal with a taste for men's genitalia. And anyway, it's just common sense to make sure someone who gave you the creeps can't follow you.

"So," he asks, deliberately upbeat for Kelly's sake, raising his eyebrows at him, "where are we going?"

"Oh yeah, I've got the hotel's name on my phone, hang on," Kelly answers slowly, fishing it out of his pocket, turning it back on and rooting through it as they walk.

Which has Matt promptly moving his arm to around Kelly's waist, grasping the side of Kelly's leather jacket so he can steer the idiot out of the way of a sleeping man's stretched legs.

"Thanks," Kelly says distractedly, as they continue their fast pace following the taxi signs—well, _Matt's_ following the taxi signs—without missing a step.

"You're welcome," Matt answers with a laugh, keeping his eyes peeled for any more obstacles. He saves Kelly from getting tangled in a tiny dog's very long leash and smashing into two different people _also_ obliviously walking-and-texting before they reach the doors leading to the line of yellow cabs outside.

Point of which Kelly triumphantly exclaims "Found it!" and shoves his phone in Matt's face with a huge grin, making them both stop abruptly in the middle of the doorway, much to the annoyance of the other people trying to go in or out, and Matt nearly goes cross-eyed as he tries to read the screen.

All he gets is that it looks like a booking confirmation email, before Kelly snatches the phone back just as fast. "Forgot to flag it when I got it," he says with a shrug by way of explanation, ignoring or not noticing the glares and grumbles as people walk around them, touching his screen to apparently do just that.

Matt resists the urge to roll his eyes, apologizes for them both, more than once, and pushes him outside and out of the way.

"Right, come on then," Kelly says, mad grin firmly back in place as he pockets his phone and turns toward Matt as if _Matt's_ the one holding them up and being worryingly absent-minded. "I got us a _great_ hotel, you're gonna love it," he adds very enthusiastically, blue eyes shining.

Matt _has_ been wondering where they were going to sleep—somehow between the madness of that plane ride and his determination to make Kelly smile he's forgotten to ask about accommodations. "The room's got two beds, right?" he jokes, following Kelly to the cabs.

"I booked it thinking I was gonna share it with _Capp_ ," Kelly answers with a laugh, "of course it has two beds."

"Why," Matt asks dryly, unable to stop himself, "would you have asked for only one bed if you knew you were gonna share it with me?"

"Of course not," Kelly answers, grinning very much like a maniac, "I'd have booked us the honeymoon suite. With champagne, rose petals and a mirror above the king-size bed. What do you _think_ , Matt?" he adds with heavy sarcasm.

"I think my fiancee would have killed you," Matt snickers.

"Good thing there's two beds then," Kelly laughs. "I don't fancy being beaten to death by a girl half my size. That'd be an embarrassing way to go."

Matt laughs with him at the image—but inwardly, he's kicking himself for that last crack.  He still dreams of Shay. And Hallie. And Andy. And his _dad_. The thought of Kelly dying too makes him want to puke. 

And Kelly sure doesn't need to see that—doesn't need to worry about _Matt_ on top of everything.


	8. Chapter 8

Kelly chatters with their friendly cab driver the entire ride to the hotel. Matt texts Gabby they've arrived okay and that he loves her and misses her already, gets a _Luv u 2 babe_ in answer a few minutes later that leaves him feeling a bit bereft (not to mention _old_ , because _his_ texts always have proper spelling and punctuation, and Gabby's rarely do. Sometimes they're even so shortened it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out what she's typed—not that he's about to admit that to anyone) and spends the rest of the time alternating between looking out the window and covertly observing Kelly.

Covertly observing Kelly is probably something Matt's perfected to an artform, over the years. (Not that he'll ever admit _that_ to anyone either.) Of course, there's a difference between observing and understanding, and Matt's never too sure he reads Kelly right. ( _Andy_ could read Kelly with his eyes closed, but Matt, on his own, always seems to fumble and drop the ball.)

Now that he's not the sole recipient of Kelly's focus though, and there's nothing else to demand his attention, Matt is able to _really_ notice some things...which he frankly doesn't like. At _all_.

Like this weirdly hyper chattering. It's the latest in a long line of strange behavior that's been steadily getting more and more worrying, even if, Matt supposes, it's better than Kelly living in the woods like some kind of bear-like hermit, or getting drunk off his ass until bar closing hours and either going off with a stranger or locking himself back in his office off-shift, like a wounded animal huddling in its lair.

The single-minded search for that book-in email in his phone and uncharacteristic obliviousness to everything else earlier could have been attributed to the long plane ride rather easily, or the shifts they've been pulling lately. But there's also Kelly's behavior in the plane: nearly textbook-typical of the Kelly before Andy's death. Matt was so happy to see him smile he let himself be fooled, then, but now he can ask himself: how much of it was real?

This determinedly cheerful chatting sure doesn't seem very much so. Kelly is not a hyper kind of guy; even at his most excited, in his right mind, he's not particularly expansive. Grinning, yes. Wide and bright and breathtaking, with his eyes too, and the effect is stunning, but always in a reserved sort-of way (which is what makes it even more spectacular, because seeing him so unguarded is a privilege—an irrefutable sign of true trust). Laughing is more rare, and a hug is exceptional, a good-we're-not-dead kind of thing. Sure, when he's drunk, or even just tipsy, and among close friends, he's a lot more affectionate (or at least he _was_ , before Andy disappeared in that fucking ball of flames): none of those tickle-attacks on Matt occurred sober— _before_. But he's sober _now_ —Matt might not always read him right, and Kelly is generally a fully-functioning drunk, but Matt can tell when he's had even just one beer, and right now he hasn't.

Which makes that tickling-threat even more peculiar—and that's not even taking into account the public setting.

It's...almost manic. Like Kelly's inwardly bouncing all over the place—like if he stops pretending to be happy, he'll _sink_.

Come to think about it, the whole preparation for this weekend has been like that, what with the intense Vegas lessons around the Squad table. What the hell would Kelly do if he'd gone alone? Better yet, what the hell _will_ he do if it doesn't work out—if he doesn't get past all that tightly-held grief he's obviously still choking on? Ignoring it doesn't help—Matt knows that only too well. But it's not like Kelly can actually _make_ himself happy by forcing himself to _act_ like he is, or whatever this...desperate madness is.

Perhaps the best question still, is: what the hell can _Matt_ do about it? He's no shrink (not that Kelly would ever voluntarily see one, but still). He's not Shay. He's not _Andy_. He's just—

"Hey," suddenly comes from _right_ next to Matt's ear, Kelly snapping his fingers less than an inch from Matt's nose—Matt jumps, and actually manages to bang his head against the window.

" _What_ ," he groans—just as Kelly says "Shit, sorry," holding up his hands in the universal I-come-in-peace gesture and grinning too wide, "but we're here, y'see?"

Matt rubs his head, but he's barely opened his mouth to offer to half the cab's fare than Kelly's already paid and is tugging on his arm with a "Don't go out that way, there's traffic, come on." By the time Matt obediently starts shuffling closer, he's already halfway out the door.

"I'm paying for lunch," Matt declares, grabbing his bag from him, because of course Kelly's taken everything and is now almost bouncing in place.

"Alright," Kelly laughs, waving thanks to the retreating, grinning cab driver, "but I want pizza."

"Sounds good," Matt answers, a bit lamely but with a smile (even though it's probably sort of helpless). Frankly, he's not even surprised anymore, but if Kelly wants pizza, then pizza it is. It's as right of a starting point as any.


End file.
